THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

GIFT  OF 

Mrs.  Edwin  Grabhorn 


LOVE-SONGS   OF   CHILDHOOD 


BY  EUGENE   FIELD 


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LOVE-SONGS  OF 
CHILDHOOD 

BY  EUGENE 
FIELD 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1894 


Copyright,  1894,  by 
EUGENE   FIELD 


To  Mrs.  Belle  Angler 

Dearest  Aunt : 

Many  years  ago  you  used  to  rock  me  to  sleep, 
cradling  me  in  your  arms  and  singing  me  pretty 
songs.  Surely  you  have  not  forgotten  that  time, 
and  I  recall  it  with  tenderness.  You  were  very 
beautiful  then.  But  you  are  more  beautiful  now; 
for,  in  the  years  that  have  come  and  gone  since 
then,  the  joys  and  tJie  sorrows  of  maternity  have 
impressed  their  saintly  grace  upon  the  dear  face  I 
used  to  kiss,  and  have  made  your  gentle  heart  getitler 
still. 

Beloved  lady,  in  memory  of  years  to  be  recalled 
only  in  thought,  and  in  token  of  my  gratitude  and 
affection,  I  bring  you  these  little  love-songs,  and 
reverently  I  lay  them  at  your  feet. 

Eugene  Field. 
Chicago,  November  I,  1894. 


THE   LOVE-SONGS 

PAGE 

THE  ROCK-A-BY  LADY  i 

"BOOH"! 3 

GARDEN  AND  CRADLE 5 

THE  NIGHT  WIND 6 

KISSING  TIME 9 

JEST  'FORE  CHRISTMAS n 

BEARD  AND  BABY 15 

THE  DINKEY-BIRD 17 

THE  DRUM 20 

THE  DEAD  BABE 23 

THE  HAPPY  HOUSEHOLD 25 

SO,  SO,  ROCK-A-BY  SO ! 28 

THE  SONG  OF  LUDDY-DUD 30 

THE  DUEL 32 

GOOD-CHILDREN  STREET 34 

THE  DELECTABLE  BALLAD  OF  THE  WALLER  LOT.  .  37 

THE  STORK 45 

THE  BOTTLE  TREE 47 

GOOGLY-GOO 49 


THE  LOVE-SONGS 

PAGE 

THE  BENCH-LEGGED  FYCE 52 

LITTLE  Miss  BRAG 56 

THE  HUMMING  TOP 59 

LADY  BUTTON-EYES 61 

THE  RIDE  TO  BUMPVILLE 64 

THE  BROOK 67 

PlCNIC-TlME 69 

SHUFFLE-SHOON  AND  AMBER-LOCKS  72 

THE  SHUT-EYE  TRAIN 74 

LITTLE-OH-DEAR 77 

THE  FLY-AWAY  HORSE 79 

SWING  HIGH  AND  SWING  Low 83 

WHEN  I  WAS  A  BOY 85 

AT  PLAY 87 

A  VALENTINE 89 

LITTLE  ALL-ALONEY  91 

SEEIN'  THINGS 94 

THE  CUNNIN'  LITTLE  THING   98 

THE  DOLL'S  WOOING 100 

INSCRIPTION  FOR  MY  LITTLE  SON'S  SILVER  PLATE  103 

FISHERMAN  JIM'S  KIDS 104 

"  FIDDLE-DEE-DEE  " 107 

OVER  THE  HILLS  AND  FAR  AWAY  .  .no 


LOVE-SONGS   OF   CHILDHOOD 


LOVE-SONGS    OF   CHILDHOOD 

* 
THE   ROCK-A-BY    LADY 

rE  Rock-a-By  Lady  from  Hushaby  street 
Comes  stealing ;  comes  creeping ; 
The  poppies  they  hang  from  her  head  to  her  feet, 
And  each  hath  a  dream  that  is  tiny  and  fleet  — 
She  bringeth  her  poppies  to  you,  my  sweet, 
When  she  nndeth  you  sleeping ! 

There  is  one  little  dream  of  a  beautiful  drum  — 

"  Rub-a-dub  !  "  it  goeth  ; 
There  is  one  little  dream  of  a  big  sugar-plum, 
And  lo !  thick  and  fast  the  other  dreams  come 
Of  popguns  that  bang,  and  tin  tops  that  hum, 
And  a  trumpet  that  bloweth ! 


1  THE    ROCK-A-BY    LADY 

And  dollies  peep  out  of  those  wee  little  dreams 

With  laughter  and  singing ; 
And  boats  go  a-floating  on  silvery  streams, 
And  the  stars  peek-a-boo  with  their  own  misty 

gleams, 
And  up,  up,  and  up,  where  the  Mother  Moon 

beams, 
The  fairies  go  winging ! 

Would  you  dream  all  these  dreams  that  are  tiny 

and  fleet  ? 

They  '11  come  to  you  sleeping; 
So  shut  the  two  eyes  that  are  weary,  my  sweet, 
For  the  Rock-a-By  Lady  from  Hushaby  street, 
With  poppies  that  hang  from  her  head  to  her 

feet, 
Comes  stealing ;  comes  creeping, 


"BOOH!" 

kN  afternoons,  when  baby  boy  has  had  a 
splendid  nap, 

And  sits,  like  any  monarch  on  his  throne,  in 
nurse's  lap, 

In  some  such  wise  my  handkerchief  I  hold  be- 
fore my  face, 

And  cautiously  and  quietly  I  move  about  the 
place; 

Then,  with  a  cry,  I  suddenly  expose  my  face  to 
view, 

And  you  should  hear  him  laugh  and  crow  when 
I  say  "  Booh  !  " 

Sometimes  the  rascal  tries  to  make  believe  that 

he  is  scared, 
And  really,  when  I  first  began,  he  stared,  and 

stared,  and  stared ; 


4  "BOOH!" 

And  then  his  under  lip  came  out  and  farther  out 

it  came, 
Till  mamma  and  the  nurse  agreed  it  was  a  "cruel 

shame  "  — 
But  now  what  does  that  same  wee,  toddling, 

lisping  baby  do 

But  laugh  and  kick  his  little  heels  when  I  say 
"Booh!" 

He  laughs  and  kicks  his  little  heels  in  rapturous 

glee,  and  then 

In  shrill,  despotic  treble  bids  me  "  do  it  all  aden! " 
And  I  —  of  course  I  do  it ;  for,  as  his  progenitor, 
It  is  such  pretty,  pleasant  play  as  this  that  I  am 

for! 
And  it  is,  oh,  such  fun  !  and  I  am  sure  that  we 

shall  rue 
The  time  when  we  are  both  too  old  to  play  the 

game  of  "  Booh !  " 


GARDEN   AND    CRADLE 

WHEN  our  babe  he  goeth  walking  in  his 
garden, 

Around  his  tinkling  feet  the  sunbeams  play ; 
The  posies  they  are  good  to  him, 
And  bow  them  as  they  should  to  him, 
As  fareth  he  upon  his  kingly  way ; 

And  birdlings  of  the  wood  to  him 
Make  music,  gentle  music,  all  the  day, 
When  our  babe  he  goeth  walking  in  his  garden. 

When  our  babe  he  goeth  swinging  in  his  cradle, 
Then  the  night  it  looketh  ever  sweetly  down ; 
The  little  stars  are  kind  to  him, 
The  moon  she  hath  a  mind  to  him 
And  layeth  on  his  head  a  golden  crown ; 

And  singeth  then  the  wind  to  him 
A  song,  the  gentle  song  of  Bethlem-town, 
When  our  babe  he  goeth  swinging  in  his  cradle. 


THE   NIGHT   WIND 

HAVE  you  ever  heard  the  wind  go  "  Yooooo  "  ? 
'T  is  a  pitiful  sound  to  hear ! 
It  seems  to  chill  you  through  and  through 

With  a  strange  and  speechless  fear. 
'T  is  the  voice  of  the  night  that  broods  outside 

When  folk  should  be  asleep, 
And  many  and  many  's  the  time  I  've  cried 
To  the  darkness  brooding  far  and  wide 

Over  the  land  and  the  deep  : 
"Whom  do  you  want,  O  lonely  night, 

That  you  wail  the  long  hours  through  ?  " 
And  the  night  would  say  in  its  ghostly  way : 
" Yoooooooo ! 
Yoooooooo ! 
Yoooooooo ! " 

6 


THE  NIGHT   WIND  7 

My  mother  told  me  long  ago 

(When  I  was  a  little  tad) 
That  when  the  night  went  wailing  so, 

Somebody  had  been  bad ; 
And  then,  when  I  was  snug  in  bed, 

Whither  I  had  been  sent, 
With  the  blankets  pulled  up  round  my  head, 
I  'd  think  of  what  my  mother  'd  said, 

And  wonder  what  boy  she  meant ! 
And  "  Who  's  been  bad  to-day  ?  "  I  'd  ask 

Of  the  wind  that  hoarsely  blew, 
And  the  voice  would  say  in  its  meaningful  way : 
"  Yoooooooo ! 
Yoooooooo ! 
Yoooooooo !  " 

That  this  was  true  I  must  allow  — 

You  '11  not  believe  it,  though  ! 
Yes,  though  I  'm  quite  a  model  now, 

I  was  not  always  so. 
And  if  you  doubt  what  things  I  say, 

Suppose  you  make  the  test ; 
Suppose,  when  you  Ve  been  bad  some  day 


THE  NIGHT   WIND 

And  up  to  bed  are  sent  away 

From  mother  and  the  rest  — 
Suppose  you  ask,  "  Who  has  been  bad  ?  " 

And  then  you  '11  hear  what 's  true ; 
For  the  wind  will  moan  in  its  ruefulest  tone 
" Yoooooooo ! 
Yoooooooo ! 
Yoooooooo ! " 


KISSING   TIME 

is  when  the  lark  goes  soaring 

And  the  bee  is  at  the  bud, 
When  lightly  dancing  zephyrs 

Sing  over  field  and  flood ; 
When  all  sweet  things  iii  nature 

Seem  joyfully  achime  — 
'T  is  then  I  wake  my  darling, 
For  it  is  kissing  time  ! 

Go,  pretty  lark,  a-soaring, 

And  suck  your  sweets,  O  bee ; 
Sing,  O  ye  winds  of  summer, 

Your  songs  to  mine  and  me ; 
For  with  your  song  and  rapture 

Cometh  the  moment  when 
It  's  half-past  kissing  time 

And  time  to  kiss  again ! 

9 


10  KISSING   TIME 

So —  so  the  days  go  fleeting 

Like  golden  fancies  free, 
And  every  day  that  cometh 

Is  full  of  sweets  for  me ; 
And  sweetest  are  those  moments 

My  darling  comes  to  climb 
Into  my  lap  to  mind  me 

That  it  is  kissing  time. 

Sometimes,  maybe,  he  wanders 

A  heedless,  aimless  way  — 
Sometimes,  maybe,  he  loiters 

In  pretty,  prattling  play ; 
But  presently  bethinks  him 

And  hastens  to  me  then, 
For  it  's  half-past  kissing  time 

And  time  to  kiss  again  ! 


JEST   'FORE   CHRISTMAS 


calls  me  William,  sister  calls  me  Will, 
JT    Mother  calls  me  Willie,  but  the  fellers  call 

me  Bill  ! 

Mighty  glad  I  ain't  a  girl  —  ruther  be  a  boy, 
Without  them  sashes,  curls,  an'  things  that  's 

worn  by  Fauntleroy  ! 
Love  to  chawnk  green  apples  an'  go  swimmin'  in 

the  lake  — 
Hate  to  take  the  castor-ile  they  give  for  belly- 

ache ! 
'Most  all  the  time,  the  whole  year  round,  there 

ain't  no  flies  on  me, 
But  jest  'fore  Christmas  I  'm  as  good  as  I  kin  be! 

Got  a  yeller  dog  named  Sport,  sick  him  on  the 

cat; 
First  thing  she  knows  she  does  n't  know  where 

she  is  at  ! 


12  JEST   'FORE   CHRISTMAS 

Got  a  clipper  sled,  an'  when  us  kids  goes  out  to 

slide, 
'Long  comes  the  grocery  cart,  an'  we  all  hook  a 

ride! 
But  sometimes  when  the  grocery  man  is  worrited 

an'  cross, 
He  reaches  at  us  with  his  whip,  an'  larrups  up 

his  hoss, 
An'  then  I  laff  an'  holler,  "  Oh,  ye  never  teched 

me/" 
But  jest  'fore  Christmas  I  'm  as  good  as  I  kin  be ! 

Gran'ma  says  she  hopes  that  when  I  git  to  be  a 
man, 

I  '11  be  a  missionarer  like  her  oldest  brother,  Dan, 

As  was  et  up  by  the  cannibuls  that  lives  in  Cey- 
lon's Isle, 

Where  every  prospeck  pleases,  an'  only  man  is 
vile! 

But  gran'ma  she  has  never  been  to  see  a  Wild 
West  show, 

Nor  read  the  Life  of  Daniel  Boone,  or  else  I 
guess  she  'd  know 


JEST   'FORE  CHRISTMAS  13 

That  Buff 'lo  Bill  an'  cow-boys  is  good  enough 

for  me ! 
Excep  jest  'fore  Christmas,  when  I  'm  good  as  I 

kin  be ! 

And  then  old  Sport  he  hangs  around,  so  solemn- 
like  an'  still, 

His  eyes  they  seem  a-sayin' :  "  What  's  the  mat- 
ter, little  Bill  ?  " 

The  old  cat  sneaks  down  off  her  perch  an'  won- 
ders what  's  become 

Of  them  two  enemies  of  hern  that  used  to  make 
things  hum ! 

But  I  am  so  perlite  an'  'tend  so  earnestly  to  biz, 

That  mother  says  to  father :  "  How  improved 
our  Willie  is !  " 

But  father,  havin'  been  a  boy  hisself,  suspicions  me 

When,  jest  'fore  Christmas,  I  'm  as  good  as  I  kin  be ! 

For  Christmas,  with  its  lots  an'  lots  of  candies, 

cakes,  an'  toys, 
Was  made,  they  say,  for  proper  kids  an'  not  for 

naughty  boys; 


14  JEST   'FORE   CHRISTMAS 

So  wash  yer  face  an'  bresh  yer  hair,  an'  mind 

yer  p's  and  q's, 
An'  don't  bust  out  yer  pantaloons,  and  don't 

wear  out  yer  shoes ; 
Say  "  Yessum  "  to  the  ladies,  an'  "  Yessur  "  to 

the  men, 
An'  when  they  's  company,  don't  pass  yer  plate 

for  pie  again; 
But,  thinkin'  of  the  things  yer  'd  like  to  see  upon 

that  tree, 
Jest  'fore  Christmas  be  as  good  as  yer  kin  be ! 


BEARD   AND   BABY 

I  SAY,  as  one  who  never  feared 
The  wrath  of  a  subscriber's  bullet, 
I  pity  him  who  has  a  beard 
But  has  no  little  girl  to  pull  it ! 

When  wife  and  I  have  finished  tea, 
Our  baby  woos  me  with  her  prattle, 

And,  perching  proudly  on  my  knee, 
She  gives  my  petted  whiskers  battle. 

With  both  her  hands  she  tugs  away, 
While  scolding  at  me  kind  o'  spiteful ; 

You  '11  not  believe  me  when  I  say 
I  find  the  torture  quite  delightful ! 

No  other  would  presume,  I  ween, 
To  trifle  with  this  hirsute  wonder, 

Else  would  I  rise  in  vengeful  mien 
And  rend  his  vandal  frame  asunder! 
15 


16  BEARD   AND    BABY 

But  when  her  baby  fingers  pull 

This  glossy,  sleek,  and  silky  treasure, 

My  cup  of  happiness  is  full  — 

I  fairly  glow  with  pride  and  pleasure ! 

And,  sweeter  still,  through  all  the  day 
I  seem  to  hear  her  winsome  prattle  — 

I  seem  to  feel  her  hands  at  play, 

As  though  they  gave  me  sportive  battle. 

Yes,  heavenly  music  seems  to  steal 
Where  thought  of  her  forever  lingers, 

And  round  my  heart  I  always  feel 
The  twining  of  her  dimpled  fingers  ! 


THE   DINKEY-BIRD 

IN  an  ocean,  'way  out  yonder 
(As  all  sapient  people  know), 
Is  the  land  of  Wonder- Wander, 
Whither  children  love  to  go ; 
It 's  their  playing,  romping,  swinging, 

That  give  great  joy  to  me 
While  the  Dinkey-Bird  goes  singing 
In  the  amfalula  tree ! 

There  the  gum-drops  grow  like  cherries, 

And  taffy  's  thick  as  peas  — 
Caramels  you  pick  like  berries 

When,  and  where,  and  how  you  please ; 
Big  red  sugar-plums  are  clinging 

To  the  cliffs  beside  that  sea 
Where  the  Dinkey-Bird  is  singing 

In  the  amfalula  tree. 
17 


i8  THE   DINKEY-BIRD 

So  when  children  shout  and  scamper 

And  make  merry  all  the  day, 
When  there  's  naught  to  put  a  damper 

To  the  ardor  of  their  play ; 
When  I  hear  their  laughter  ringing, 

Then  I  'm  sure  as  sure  can  be 
That  the  Dinkey-Bird  is  singing 

In  the  amfalula  tree. 

For  the  Dinkey- Bird's  bravuras 

And  staccatos  are  so  sweet  — 
His  roulades,  appoggiaturas, 

And  robustos  so  complete, 
That  the  youth  of  every  nation  — 

Be  they  near  or  far  away  — 
Have  especial  delectation 

In  that  gladsome  roundelay. 

Their  eyes  grow  bright  and  brighter, 
Their  lungs  begin  to  crow, 

Their  hearts  get  light  and  lighter, 
And  their  cheeks  are  all  aglow  ; 


THE  DINKEY-BIRD  19 

For  an  echo  cometh  bringing 

The  news  to  all  and  me, 
That  the  Dinkey- Bird  is  singing 

In  the  amfalula  tree. 

I  'm  sure  you  like  to  go  there 

To  see  your  feathered  friend — 
And  so  many  goodies  grow  there 

You  would  like  to  comprehend ! 
Speed,  little  dreams,  your  winging 

To  that  land  across  the  sea 
Where  the  Dinkey-Bird  is  singing 

In  the  amfalula  tree  ! 


THE  DRUM 

I'M  a  beautiful  red,  red  drum, 
And  I  train  with  the  soldier  boys ; 
As  up  the  street  we  come, 

Wonderful  is  our  noise ! 
There  's  Tom,  and  Jim,  and  Phil, 

And  Dick,  and  Nat,  and  Fred, 
While  Widow  Cutler's  Bill 

And  I  march  on  ahead, 
With  a  r-r-rat-tat-tat 

And  a  tum-titty-um-tum-tum  — 
Oh,  there  's  bushels  of  fun  in  that 

For  boys  with  a  little  red  drum ! 

The  Injuns  came  last  night 
While  the  soldiers  were  abed, 

And  they  gobbled  a  Chinese  kite 
And  off  to  the  woods  they  fled ! 


THE   DRUM  21 

The  woods  are  the  cherry-trees 

Down  in  the  orchard  lot, 
And  the  soldiers  are  marching  to  seize 

The  booty  the  Injuns  got. 
With  tum-titty-um-tum-tum, 

And  r-r-rat-tat-tat, 
When  soldiers  marching  come 

Injuns  had  better  scat ! 


Step  up  there,  little  Fred, 

And,  Charley,  have  a  mind ! 
Jim  is  as  far  ahead 

As  you  two  are  behind ! 
Ready  with  gun  and  sword 

Your  valorous  work  to  do  — 
Yonder  the  Injun  horde 

Are  lying  in  wait  for  you. 
And  their  hearts  go  pitapat 

When  they  hear  the  soldiers  come 
With  a  r-r-rat-tat-tat 

And  a  tum-titty-um-tum-tum ! 


22  THE   DRUM 

Course  it  's  all  in  play ! 

The  skulking  Injun  crew 
That  hustled  the  kite  away 

Are  little  white  boys,  like  you ! 
But  "  honest "  or  "  just  in  fun," 

It  is  all  the  same  to  me ; 
And,  when  the  battle  is  won, 

Home  once  again  march  we 
With  a  r-r-rat-tat-tat 

And  tum-titty-um-tum-tum ; 
And  there  's  glory  enough  in  that 

For  the  boys  with  their  little  red  drum ! 


THE   DEAD   BABE 

LAST  night,  as  my  dear  babe  lay  dead, 
In  agony  I  knelt  and  said : 

"  O  God !  what  have  I  done, 
Or  in  what  wise  offended  Thee, 
That  Thou  should'st  take  away  from  me 
My  little  son  ? 

"  Upon  the  thousand  useless  lives, 
Upon  the  guilt  that  vaunting  thrives, 

Thy  wrath  were  better  spent! 
Why  should'st  Thou  take  my  little  son  — 
Why  should'st  Thou  vent  Thy  wrath  upon 

This  innocent  ?  " 

Last  night,  as  my  dear  babe  lay  dead, 
Before  mine  eyes  the  vision  spread 

Of  things  that  might  have  been : 
23 


24  THE   DEAD   BABE 

Licentious  riot,  cruel  strife, 
Forgotten  prayers,  a  wasted  life 
Dark  red  with  sin! 

Then,  with  sweet  music  in  the  air, 
I  saw  another  vision  there: 

A  Shepherd  in  whose  keep 
A  little  lamb  —  my  little  child! 
Of  worldly  wisdom  undefiled, 

Lay  fast  asleep ! 

Last  night,  as  my  dear  babe  lay  dead, 
In  those  two  messages  I  read 

A  wisdom  manifest ; 
And  though  my  arms  be  childless  now, 
I  am  content  —  to  Him  I  bow 

Who  knoweth  best. 


THE   HAPPY   HOUSEHOLD 

IT  's  when  the  birds  go  piping  and  the  day- 
light slowly  breaks, 
That,  clamoring  for  his  dinner,  our  precious 

baby  wakes; 
Then  it  's  sleep  no  more  for  baby,  and  it  's 

sleep  no  more  for  me, 
For,  when  he  wants  his  dinner,  why  it  's  dinner 

it  must  be ! 

And  of  that  lacteal  fluid  he  partakes  with 
great  ado, 

While  gran'ma  laughs, 
And  gran'pa  laughs, 
And  wife,  she  laughs, 
And  I  —  well,  /  laugh,  too  f 


26  THE   HAPPY   HOUSEHOLD 

You  'd  think,  to  see  us  carrying  on  about  that 

little  tad, 
That,  like  as  not,  that  baby  was  the  first  we  'd 

ever  had; 
But,  sakes  alive!  he  is  n't,  yet  we  people 

make  a  fuss 
As  if  the  only  baby  in  the  world  had  come 

to  us! 

And,  morning,  noon,  and  night-time,  whatever 
he  may  do, 

Gran'ma,  she  laughs, 

Gran'pa,  he  laughs, 

Wife,  she  laughs, 

And  /,  of  course,  laugh,  too ! 

But  once  —  a  likely  spell  ago  —  when  that  poor 

little  chick 
From  teething  or  from  some  such  ill  of  infancy 

fell  sick, 
You  would  n't  know  us  people  as  the  same 

that  went  about 
A-feelin'  good  all  over,  just  to  hear  him  crow 

and  shout: 


THE   HAPPY   HOUSEHOLD  27 

And,  though  the  doctor  poohed  our  fears  and 
said  he  'd  pull  him  through, 
Old  gran'ma  cried, 
And  gran'pa  cried, 
And  wife,  she  cried, 
And  I  —  yes,  /  cried,  too  ! 

It  makes  us  all  feel  good  to  have  a  baby  on 

the  place, 
With  his  everlastin'  crowing  and  his  dimpling, 

dumpling  face; 
The  patter  of  his  pinky  feet  makes  music 

everywhere, 
And  when  he  shakes  those  fists  of  his,  good-by 

to  every  care ! 

No  matter  what  our  trouble  is,  when  he  begins 
to  coo, 

Old  gran'ma  laughs, 

And  gran'pa  laughs, 

Wife,  she  laughs, 

And  I — you  bet,  /laugh,  too! 


SO,   SO,    ROCK-A-BY   SO! 

So,  so,  rock-a-by  so ! 
Off  to  the  garden  where  dreamikins  grow ; 
And  here  is  a  kiss  on  your  winkyblink  eyes, 

And  here  is  a  kiss  on  your  dimpledown  cheek 
And  here  is  a  kiss  for  the  treasure  that  lies 
In  the  beautiful  garden  way  up  in  the  skies 

Which  you  seek. 

Now  mind  these  three  kisses  wherever  you  go  — 
So,  so,  rock-a-by  so! 

There  's  one  little  fumfay  who  lives  there,  I 

know, 
For  he  dances  all  night  where  the  dreamikins 

grow; 

28 


SO,  SO,  ROCK-A-BY  SO  !  29 

I  send  him  this  kiss  on  your  droopydrop  eyes, 

I  send  him  this  kiss  on  your  rosyred  cheek. 

And  here  is  a  kiss  for  the  dream  that  shall  rise 

When  the  fumfay  shall  dance  in  those  far-away 

skies 

Which  you  seek. 
Be  sure  that  you  pay  those  three  kisses  you 

owe  — 
So,  so,  rock-a-by  so! 

And,  by-low,  as  you  rock-a-by  go, 
Don't  forget  mother  who  loveth  you  so! 
And  here  is  her  kiss  on  your  weepydeep  eyes, 

And  here  is  her  kiss  on  your  peachypink 

cheek, 

And  here  is  her  kiss  for  the  dreamland  that  lies 
Like  a  babe  on  the  breast  of  those  far-away 
skies 

Which  you  seek  — 

The blinky wink  garden  where  dreamikins  grow — 
So,  so,  rock-a-by  so! 


THE   SONG   OF   LUDDY-DUD 

A  SUNBEAM  comes  a-creeping 
Into  my  dear  one's  nest, 
And  sings  to  our  babe  a-sleeping 
The  song  that  I  love  the  best : 

"  'T  is  little  Luddy-Dud  in  the  morning — 
'T  is  little  Luddy-Dud  at  night; 
And  all  day  long 
'T  is  the  same  sweet  song 
Of  that  waddling,  toddling,  coddling  little  mite, 
Luddy-Dud." 

The  bird  to  tlie  tossing  clover, 

The  bee  to  the  swaying  bud, 
Keep  singing  that  sweet  song  over 

Of  wee  little  Luddy-Dud. 
30 


THE  SONG   OF   LUDDY-DUD  31 

"  'T  is  little  Luddy-Dud  in  the  morning  — 
'T  is  little  Luddy-Dud  at  night; 
And  all  day  long 
'T  is  the  same  dear  song 
Of  that  growing,  crowing,  knowing  little  sprite, 
Luddy-Dud." 

Luddy-Dud's  cradle  is  swinging 

Where  softly  the  night  winds  blow, 
And  Luddy-Dud's  mother  is  singing 
A  song  that  is  sweet  and  low : 

"  'T  is  little  Luddy-Dud  in  the  morning  — 
'T  is  little  Luddy-Dud  at  night; 
And  all  day  long 
'T  is  the  same  sweet  song 
Of  my  nearest  and  my  dearest  heart's  delight, 
Luddy-Dud ! " 


THE   DUEL 

THE  gingham  dog  and  the  calico  cat 
Side  by  side  on  the  table  sat; 
'T  was  half-past  twelve,  and  (what  do  you  think !) 
Nor  one  nor  t'  other  had  slept  a  wink! 

The  old  Dutch  clock  and  the  Chinese  plate 
Appeared  to  know  as  sure  as  fate 
There  was  going  to  be  a  terrible  spat. 
(I  was  n't  there  /  I  simply  state 
What  was  told  to  me  by  the  Chinese  plate  !) 

The  gingham  dog  went  "  bow-wow-wow !  " 
And  the  calico  cat  replied  "  mee-ow ! " 
The  air  was  littered,  an  hour  or  so, 
With  bits  of  gingham  and  calico, 

While  the  old  Dutch  clock  in  the  chimney- 
place 

Up  with  its  hands  before  its  face, 
For  it  always  dreaded  a  family  row! 
32 


THE   DUEL  33 

(Now  mind:  I'm  only  telling  you 
What  the  old  Dutch  clock  declares  is  true  ! ) 

The  Chinese  plate  looked  very  blue, 
And  wailed,  "  Oh,  dear !  what  shall  we  do ! " 
But  the  gingham  dog  and  the  calico  cat 
Wallowed  this  way  and  tumbled  that, 
Employing  every  tooth  and  claw    •  • 
In  the  awfullest  way  you  ever  saw  — 
And,  oh !  how  the  gingham  and  calico  flew ! 
(Don Y  fancy  I  exaggerate  — 
/  got  my  news  from  the  Chinese  plate!) 

Next  morning,  where  the  two  had  sat 
They  found  no  trace  of  dog  or  cat; 
And  some  folks  think  unto  this  day 
That  burglars  stole  that  pair  away ! 

But  the  truth  about  the  cat  and  pup 
Is  this:  they  ate  each  other  up! 
Now  what  do  you  really  think  of  that! 

( The  old  Dutch  clock  it  told  me  so, 
And  that  is  how  /  came  to  know,) 


GOOD-CHILDREN   STREET 

THERE  's  a  dear  little  home  in  Good-Children 
street  — 

My  heart  turneth  fondly  to-day 
Where  tinkle  of  tongues  and  patter  of  feet 

Make  sweetest  of  music  at  play; 
Where  the  sunshine  of  love  illumines  each  face 
And  warms  every  heart  in  that  old-fashioned 
place. 

For  dear  little  children  go  romping  about 

With  dollies  and  tin  tops  and  drums, 
And,  my !  how  they  frolic  and  scamper  and 

shout 

Till  bedtime  too  speedily  comes! 
Oh,  days  they  are  golden  and  days  they  are 

fleet 
With  little  folk  living  in  Good- Children  street. 

34 


GOOD-CHILDREN   STREET  35 

See,  here  comes  an  army  with  guns  painted  red, 
And  swords,  caps,  and  plumes  of  all  sorts; 

The  captain  rides  gaily  and  proudly  ahead 
On  a  stick-horse  that  prances  and  snorts! 

Oh,  legions  of  soldiers  you  're  certain  to  meet — 

Nice  make-believe  soldiers  —  in  Good-Children 
street. 

And  yonder  Odette  wheels  her  dolly  about — 
Poor  dolly !  I  'm  sure  she  is  ill, 

For  one  of  her  blue  china  eyes  has  dropped  out 
And  her  voice  is  asthmatic'ly  shrill. 

Then,  too,  I  observe  she  is  minus  her  feet, 

Which  causes  much  sorrow  in  Good-Children 
street. 

'T  is  so  the  dear  children  go  romping  about 
With  dollies  and  banners  and  drums, 

And  I  venture  to  say  they  are  sadly  put  out 
When  an  end  to  their  jubilee  comes: 

Oh,  days  they  are  golden  and  days  they  are 
fleet 

With  little  folk  living  in  Good-Children  street! 


36  GOOD-CHILDREN   STREET 

But  when  falleth  night  over  river  and  town, 

Those  little  folk  vanish  from  sight, 
And  an  angel  all  white  from  the  sky  cometh 

down 

And  guardeth  the  babes  through  the  night, 
And  singeth  her  lullabies  tender  and  sweet 
To  the  dear  little  people  in  Good-Children 
street. 

Though  elsewhere  the  world  be  o'erburdened 

with  care, 

Though  poverty  fall  to  my  lot, 
Though  toil  and  vexation  be  always  my  share, 

What  care  I  —  they  trouble  me  not! 
This  thought  maketh  life  ever  joyous  and 

sweet : 

There  's  a  dear  little  home  in  Good- Children 
street. 


THE  DELECTABLE  BALLAD  OF  THE 
WALLER  LOT 

Up  yonder  in  Buena  Park 
There  is  a  famous  spot, 
In  legend  and  in  history 
Yclept  the  Waller  Lot. 

There  children  play  in  daytime 
And  lovers  stroll  by  dark, 

For  't  is  the  goodliest  trysting-place 
In  all  Buena  Park. 

Once  on  a  time  that  beauteous  maid, 

Sweet  little  Sissy  Knott, 
Took  out  her  pretty  doll  to  walk 

Within  the  Waller  Lot. 

37 


38       THE   BALLAD  OF  THE   WALLER   LOT 

While  thus  she  fared,  from  Ravenswood 

Came  Injuns  o'er  the  plain, 
And  seized  upon  that  beauteous  maid 

And-  rent  her  doll  in  twain. 

Oh,  't  was  a  piteous  thing  to  hear 

Her  lamentations  wild; 
She  tore  her  golden  curls  and  cried : 
"My  child!    My  child!    My  child!  " 

Alas,  what  cared  those  Injun  chiefs 

How  bitterly  wailed  she  ? 
They  never  had  been  mothers, 

And  they  could  not  hope  to  be ! 

"  Have  done  with  tears,"  they  rudely  quoth, 

And  then  they  bound  her  hands; 
For  they  proposed  to  take  her  off 
To  distant  border  lands. 

But,  joy!  from  Mr.  Eddy's  barn 

Doth  Willie  Clow  behold 
The  sight  that  makes  his  hair  rise  up 

And  all  his  blood  run  cold. 


THE   BALLAD   OF  THE  WALLER   LOT      39 

He  put  his  fingers  in  his  mouth 
And  whistled  long  and  clear, 

And  presently  a  goodly  horde 
Of  cow-boys  did  appear. 

Cried  Willie  Clow :  "  My  comrades  bold, 

Haste  to  the  Waller  Lot, 
And  rescue  from  that  Injun  band 

Our  charming  Sissy  Knott! 

"  Spare  neither  Injun  buck  nor  squaw, 

But  smite  them  hide  and  hair ! 
Spare  neither  sex  nor  age  nor  size, 
And  no  condition  spare !  " 

Then  sped  that  cow-boy  band  away, 

Full  of  revengeful  wrath, 
And  Kendall  Evans  rode  ahead 

Upon  a  hickory  lath. 

/ 

And  next  came  gallant  Dady  Field 

And  Willie's  brother  Kent, 
The  Eddy  boys  and  Robbie  James, 

On  murderous  purpose  bent. 


40      THE    BALLAD  OF  THE   WALLER  LOT 

For  they  were  much  beholden  to 
That  maid  —  in  sooth,  the  lot 

Were  very,  very  much  in  love 
With  charming  Sissy  Knott. 

What  wonder?    She  was  beauty's  queen, 
And  good  beyond  compare; 

Moreover,  it  was  known  she  was 
Her  wealthy  father's  heir! 

Now  when  the  Injuns  saw  that  band 
They  trembled  with  affright, 

And  yet  they  thought  the  cheapest  thing 
To  do  was  stay  and  fight. 

So  sturdily  they  stood  their  ground, 
Nor  would  their  prisoner  yield, 

Despite  the  wrath  of  Willie  Clow 
And  gallant  Dady  Field. 

Oh,  never  fiercer  battle  raged 

Upon  the  Waller  Lot, 
And  never  blood  more  freely  flowed 

Than  flowed  for  Sissy  Knott! 


THE  BALLAD   OF  THE   WALLER   LOT      41 

An  Injun  chief  of  monstrous  size 

Got  Kendall  Evans  down, 
And  Robbie  James  was  soon  o'erthrown 

By  one  of  great  renown. 

And  Dady  Field  was  sorely  done, 

And  Willie  Clow  was  hurt, 
And  all  that  gallant  cow-boy  band 

Lay  wallowing  in  the  dirt. 

But  still  they  strove  with  might  and  main 

Till  all  the  Waller  Lot 
Was  strewn  with  hair  and  gouts  of  gore  — 

All,  all  for  Sissy  Knott! 

Then  cried  the  maiden  in  despair: 
"Alas,  I  sadly  fear 
The  battle  and  my  hopes  are  lost, 
Unless  some  help  appear !  " 

Lo,  as  she  spoke,  she  saw  afar 

The  rescuer  looming  up  — 
The  pride  of  all  Buena  Park, 

Clow's  famous  yellow  pup! 


42       THE   BALLAD   OF  THE   WALLER  LOT 

"  Now,  sick  'em,  Don,"  the  maiden  cried, 
"Now,  sick  'em,  Don!"  cried  she; 
Obedient  Don  at  once  complied  — 
As  ordered,  so  did  he. 

He  sicked  'em  all  so  passing  well 

That,  overcome  by  fright, 
The  Indian  horde  gave  up  the  fray 

And  safety  sought  in  flight. 

They  ran  and  ran  and  ran  and  ran 

O'er  valley,  plain,  and  hill; 
And  if  they  are  not  walking  now, 

Why,  then,  they  're  running  still. 

The  cow-boys  rose  up  from  the  dust 

With  faces  black  and  blue; 
"  Remember,  beauteous  maid,"  said  they, 
"We  've  bled  and  died  for  you! 

"And  though  we  surfer  grievously, 

We  gladly  hail  the  lot 
That  brings  us  toils  and  pains  and  wounds 
For  charming  Sissy  Knott !  " 


THE    BALLAD   OF  THE   WALLER  LOT      43 

But  Sissy  Knott  still  wailed  and  wept, 

And  still  her  fate  reviled; 
For  who  could  patch  her  dolly  up  — 

Who,  who  could  mend  her  child? 

Then  out  her  doting  mother  came, 
And  soothed  her  daughter  then; 
"  Grieve  not,  my  darling,  I  will  sew 
Your  dolly  up  again  !  " 

Joy  soon  succeeded  unto  grief, 
And  tears  were  soon  dried  up, 

And  dignities  were  heaped  upon 
Clow's  noble  yellow  pup. 

Him  all  that  goodly  company 

Did  as  deliverer  hail  — 
They  tied  a  ribbon  round  his  neck, 

Another  round  his  tail. 

And  every  anniversary  day 

Upon  the  Waller  Lot 
They  celebrate  the  victory  won 

For  charming  Sissy  Knott. 


44      THE   BALLAD   OF  THE  WALLER   LOT 

And  I,  the  poet  of  these  folk, 

Am  ordered  to  compile 
This  truly  famous  history 

In  good  old  ballad  style. 

Which  having  done  as  to  have  earned 
The  sweet  rewards  of  fame, 

In  what  same  style  I  did  begin 
I  now  shall  end  the  same. 

So  let  us  sing:  Long  live  the  King, 
Long  live  the  Queen  and  Jack, 

Long  live  the  ten-spot  and  the  ace, 
And  also  all  the  pack. 


THE   STORK 

L\.ST  night  the  Stork  came  stalking, 
And,  Stork,  beneath  your  wing 
Lay,  lapped  in  dreamless  slumber, 

The  tiniest  little  thing! 
From  Babyland,  out  yonder 

Beside  a  silver  sea, 
You  brought  a  priceless  treasure 
As  gift  to  mine  and  me! 

Last  night  my  dear  one  listened  — 

And,  wife,  you  knew  the  cry  — 
The  dear  old  Stork  has  sought  our  home 

A  many  times  gone  by! 
And  in  your  gentle  bosom 

I  found  the  pretty  thing 
That  from  the  realm  out  yonder 

Our  friend  the  Stork  did  bring. 

45 


46  THE  STORK 

Last  night  a  babe  awakened, 

And,  babe,  how  strange  and  new 
Must  seem  the  home  and  people 

The  Stork  has  brought  you  to; 
And  yet  methinks  you  like  them  — 

You  neither  stare  nor  weep, 
But  closer  to  my  dear  one 

You  cuddle,  and  you  sleep ! 

Last  night  my  heart  grew  fonder  — 

O  happy  heart  of  mine, 
Sing  of  the  inspirations 

That  round  my  pathway  shine! 
And  sing  your  sweetest  love-song 

To  this  dear  nestling  wee 
The  Stork  from  'Way-Out-Yonder 

Hath  brought  to  mine  and  me  ! 


THE  BOTTLE  TREE 

A    BOTTLE  TREE  bloometh  in  Winkyway 
J\     land— 

Heigh-ho  for  a  bottle,  I  say! 
A  snug  little  berth  in  that  ship  I  demand 

That  rocketh  the  Bottle-Tree  babies  away 

Where  the  Bottle  Tree  bloometh  by  night 

and  by  day 

And  reacheth  its  fruit  to  each  wee,  dimpled 
hand ; 

You  take  of  that  fruit  as  much  as  you  list, 

For  colic  's  a  nuisance  that  does  n't  exist! 
So  cuddle  me  close,  and  cuddle  me  fast, 

And  cuddle  me  snug  in  my  cradle  away, 
For  I  hunger  and  thirst  for  that  precious 
repast  — 

Heigh-ho  for  a  bottle,  I  say! 

47 


48  THE   BOTTLE  TREE 

The  Bottle  Tree  bloometh  by  night  and  by 
day! 

Heigh-ho  for  Winkyway  land! 
And  Bottle-Tree  fruit  (as  I  've  heard  people 
say) 

Makes  bellies  of  Bottle-Tree  babies  expand  — 

And  that  is  a  trick  I  would  fain  understand ! 
Heigh-ho  for  a  bottle  to-day! 

And  heigh-ho  for  a  bottle  to-night  — 

A  bottle  of  milk  that  is  creamy  and  white ! 
So  cuddle  me  close,  and  cuddle  me  fast, 

And  cuddle  me  snug  in  my  cradle  away, 
For  I  hunger  and  thirst  for  that  precious 
repast  — 

Heigh-ho  for  a  bottle,  I  say! 


GOOGLY-GOO 

OF  mornings,  bright  and  early, 
When  the  lark  is  on  the  wing 
And  the  robin  in  the  maple 

Hops  from  her  nest  to  sing, 
From  yonder  cheery  chamber 

Cometh  a  mellow  coo  — 
'T  is  the  sweet,  persuasive  treble 
Of  my  little  Googly-Goo ! 

The  sunbeams  hear  his  music, 

And  they  seek  his  little  bed, 
And  they  dance  their  prettiest  dances 

Round  his  golden  curly  head : 
Schottisches,  galops,  minuets, 

Gavottes  and  waltzes,  too, 
Dance  they  unto  the  music 

Of  my  googling  Googly-Goo. 

49 


50  GOOGLY-GOO 

My  heart — my  heart  it  leapeth 

To  hear  that  treble  tone; 
What  music  like  thy  music, 

My  darling  and  mine  own! 
And  patiently — yes,  cheerfully 

I  toil  the  long  day  through — 
My  labor  seemeth  lightened 

By  the  song  of  Googly-Goo! 

I  may  not  see  his  antics, 

Nor  kiss  his  dimpled  cheek: 
I  may  not  smooth  the  tresses 

The  sunbeams  love  to  seek; 
It  mattereth  not — the  echo 

Of  his  sweet,  persuasive  coo 
Recurreth  to  remind  me 

Of  my  little  Googly-Goo. 

And  when  I  come  at  evening, 
I  stand  without  the  door 

And  patiently  I  listen 

For  that  dear  sound  once  more; 


GOOGLY-GOO  51 

And  oftentimes  I  wonder, 
"  Oh,  God !  what  should  I  do 
If  any  ill  should  happen 
To  my  little  Googly-Goo  !  " 

Then  in  affright  I  call  him — 

I  hear  his  gleeful  shouts ! 
Begone,  ye  dread  forebodings — 

Begone,  ye  killing  doubts ! 
For,  with  my  arms  about  him, 

My  heart  warms  through  and  through 
With  the  oogling  and  the  googling 

Of  my  little  Googly-Goo  I 


THE   BENCH-LEGGED    FYCE 

QPEAKIN'  of  dorgs,  my  bench-legged  fyce 
O    Hed  most  o'  the  virtues,  an'  nary  a  vice. 
Some  folks  called  him  Sooner,  a  name  that 

arose 

From  his  predisposition  to  chronic  repose; 
But,  rouse  his  ambition,  he  could  n't  be  beat  — 
Yer  bet  yer  he  got  thar  on  all  his  four  feet! 

Mos*  dorgs  hez  some  forte  —  like  huntin'  an' 

such, 
But  the  sports  o'  the  field  did  n't  bother  him 

much; 

Wuz  just  a  plain  dorg,  an'  contented  to  be 
On  peaceable  terms  with  the  neighbors  an'  me ; 
Used  to  fiddle  an'  squirm,  and  grunt  "  Oh, 

how  nice ! " 
When  I  tickled  the  back  of  that  bench-legged 

fyce! 

52 


THE   BENCH-LEGGED   FYCE  53 

He  wuz  long  in  the  bar'l,  like  a  fyce  oughter 

be; 

His  color  wuz  yaller  as  ever  you  see; 
His  tail,  curlin'  upward,  wuz  long,  loose,  an' 

slim  — 
When  he  did  n't  wag  //,  why,  the  tail  it 

wagged  him! 
His  legs  wuz  so  crooked,  my  bench-legged 

pup 
Wuz  as  tall  settin'  down  as  he  wuz  standin'  up ! 

He  'd  lie  by  the  stove  of  a  night  an'  regret 
The  various  vittles  an'  things  he  had  et; 
When  a  stranger,  most  likely  a  tramp,  come 

along, 

He  'd  lift  up  his  voice  in  significant  song  — 
You  wondered,  by  gum!  how  there  ever  wuz 

space 
In  that  bosom  o'  his'n  to  hold  so  much  bass! 

Of  daytimes  he  'd  sneak  to  the  road  an'  lie 

down, 
An'  tackle  the  country  dorgs  comin'  to  town; 


54  THE   BENCH-LEGGED   FYCE 

By  common  consent  he  wuz  boss  in  St.  Joe, 

For  what  he  took  hold  of  he  never  let  go ! 

An'  a  dude  that  come  courtin'  our  girl  left 
a  slice 

Of  his  white  flannel  suit  with  our  bench- 
legged  fyce! 

He  wuz  good  to  us  kids  —  when  we  pulled 
at  his  fur 

Or  twisted  his  tail  he  would  never  demur; 

He  seemed  to  enjoy  all  our  play  an'  our 
chaff, 

For  his  tongue  'u'd  hang  out  an'  he  'd  laff 
an'  he  'd  laff; 

An'  once,  when  the  Hobart  boy  fell  through 
the  ice, 

He  wuz  drug  clean  ashore  by  that  bench- 
legged  fyce! 

We  all  hev  our  choice,  an'  you,  like  the  rest, 
Allow  that  the  dorg  which  you  Ve  got  is  the 
best; 


THE   BENCH-LEGGED   FYCE  55 

I  would  n't  give  much  for  the  boy  'at  grows 

up 
With  no  friendship  subsistin'  'tween  him  an'  a 

pup! 

When  a  fellow  gits  old  —  I  tell  you  it  's  nice 
To  think  of  his  youth  and  his  bench-legged 

fyce! 

To  think  of  the  springtime  'way  back  in  St. 

Joe  — 
Of  the  peach-trees  abloom  an'  the  daisies 

ablow ; 

To  think  of  the  play  in  the  medder  an'  grove, 
When  little  legs  wrassled  an'  little  han's  strove ; 
To  think  of  the  loyalty,  valor,  an'  truth 
Of  the  friendships  that  hallow  the  season  of 

youth ! 


LITTLE   MISS   BRAG 

LITTLE  Miss  Brag  has  much  to  say 
To  the  rich  little  lady  from  over  the  way 
And  the  rich  little  lady  puts  out  a  lip 
As  she  looks  at  her  own  white,  dainty  slip, 
And  wishes  that  she  could  wear  a  gown 
As  pretty  as  gingham  of  faded  brown ! 
For  little  Miss  Brag  she  lays  much  stress 
On  the  privileges  of  a  gingham  dress — 
"  Aha, 
Oho !  " 

The  rich  little  lady  from  over  the  way 
Has  beautiful  dolls  in  vast  array; 
Yet  she  envies  the  raggedy  home-made  doll 
She  hears  our  little  Miss  Brag  extol. 
56 


LITTLE  MISS   BRAG  57 

For  the  raggedy  doll  can  fear  no  hurt 
From  wet,  or  heat,  or  tumble,  or  dirt! 
Her  nose  is  inked,  and  her  mouth  is,  too, 
And  one  eye  's  black  and  the  other  's  blue  — 
"  Aha, 
Oho ! " 

The  rich  little  lady  goes  out  to  ride 
With  footmen  standing  up  outside, 
Yet  wishes  that,  sometimes,  after  dark 
Her  father  would  trundle  her  in  the  park;  — 
That,  sometimes,  her  mother  would  sing  the 

things 

Little  Miss  Brag  says  her  mother  sings 
When  through  the  attic  window  streams 
The  moonlight  full  of  golden  dreams — 
"  Aha, 
Oho !  " 

Yes,  little  Miss  Brag  has  much  to  say 
To  the  rich  little  lady  from  over  the  way; 
And  yet  who  knows  but  from  her  heart 
Often  the  bitter  sighs  upstart — 


58  LITTLE  MISS   BRAG 

Uprise  to  lose  their  burn  and  sting 
In  the  grace  of  the  tongue  that  loves  to  sing 
Praise  of  the  treasures  all  its  own ! 
So  I  Ve  come  to  love  that  treble  tone  — 
«  Aha, 
Oho ! " 


THE   HUMMING   TOP 

THE  top  it  hummeth  a  sweet,  sweet  song 
To  my  dear  little  boy  at  play  — 
Merrily  singeth  all  day  long, 
As  it  spinneth  and  spinneth  away, 
And  my  dear  little  boy 
He  laugheth  with  joy 
When  he  heareth  the  monotone 
Of  that  busy  thing 
That  loveth  to  sing 
The  song  that  is  all  its  own. 

Hold  fast  the  string  and  wind  it  tight, 

That  the  song  be  loud  and  clear; 
Now  hurl  the  top  with  all  your  might 
Upon  the  banquette  here; 

And  straight  from  the  string 
The  joyous  thing 


60  THE   HUMMING  TOP 

Boundeth  and  spinneth  along, 

And  it  whirrs  and  it  chirrs 
And  it  birrs  and  it  purrs 

Ever  its  pretty  song. 

Will  ever  my  dear  little  boy  grow  old, 

As  some  have  grown  before  ? 
Will  ever  his  heart  feel  faint  and  cold, 
When  he  heareth  the  songs  of  yore? 

Will  ever  this  toy 

Of  my  dear  little  boy, 
When  the  years  have  worn  away. 

Sing  sad  and  low 

Of  the  long  ago, 
As  it  singeth  to  me  to-day  ? 


LADY  BUTTON-EYES 

WHEN  the  busy  day  is  done, 
And  my  weary  little  one 
Rocketh  gently  to  and  fro; 
When  the  night  winds  softly  blow, 
And  the  crickets  in  the  glen 
Chirp  and  chirp  and  chirp  again; 
When  upon  the  haunted  green 
Fairies  dance  around  their  queen  — 
Then  from  yonder  misty  skies 
Cometh  Lady  Button-Eyes. 

Through  the  murk  and  mist  and  gloam 
To  our  quiet,  cozy  home, 
Where  to  singing,  sweet  and  low, 
Rocks  a  cradle  to  and  fro ; 

61 


62  LADY   BUTTON-EYES 

Where  the  clock's  dull  monotone 
Telleth  of  the  day  that  's  done ; 
Where  the  moonbeams  hover  o'er 
Playthings  sleeping  on  the  floor — 
Where  my  weary  wee  one  lies 
Cometh  Lady  Button-Eyes. 

Cometh  like  a  fleeting  ghost 
From  some  distant  eerie  coast; 
Never  footfall  can  you  hear 
As  that  spirit  fareth  near  — 
Never  whisper,  never  word 
From  that  shadow-queen  is  heard. 
In  ethereal  raiment  dight, 
From  the  realm  of  fay  and  sprite 
In  the  depth  of  yonder  skies 
Cometh  Lady  Button-Eyes. 

Layeth  she  her  hands  upon 
My  dear  weary  little  one, 
And  those  white  hands  overspread 
Like  a  veil  the  curly  head, 


LADY   BUTTON-EYES  63 

Seem  to  fondle  and  caress 
Every  little  silken  tress; 
Then  she  smooths  the  eyelids  down 
Over  those  two  eyes  of  brown  — 
In  such  soothing,  tender  wise 
Cometh  Lady  Button-Eyes. 

Dearest,  feel  upon  your  brow 
That  caressing  magic  now; 
For  the  crickets  in  the  glen 
Chirp  and  chirp  and  chirp  again, 
While  upon  the  haunted  green 
Fairies  dance  around  their  queen, 
And  the  moonbeams  hover  o'er 
Playthings  sleeping  on  the  floor  — 
Hush,  my  sweet!  from  yonder  skies 
Cometh  Lady  Button-Eyes ! 


THE   RIDE   TO   BUMPVILLE 

PLAY  that  my  knee  was  a  calico  mare 
Saddled  and  bridled  for  Bumpville; 
Leap  to  the  back  of  this  steed,  if  you  dare, 

And  gallop  away  to  Bumpville ! 
I  hope  you  '11  be  sure  to  sit  fast  in  your  seat, 
For  this  calico  mare  is  prodigiously  fleet, 
And  many  adventures  you  're  likely  to  meet 
As  you  journey  along  to  Bumpville. 

This  calico  mare  both  gallops  and  trots 
While  whisking  you  off  to  Bumpville; 
She  paces,  she  shies,  and  she  stumbles,  in  spots, 

In  the  tortuous  road  to  Bumpville ; 
And  sometimes  this  strangely  mercurial  steed 
Will  suddenly  stop  and  refuse  to  proceed, 
Which,  all  will  admit,  is  vexatious  indeed, 
When  one  is  en  route  to  Bumpville ! 
64 


THE   RIDE   TO   BUMPVILLE  65 

She  's  scared  of  the  cars  when  the  engine 

goes  "Toot!" 

Down  by  the  crossing  at  Bumpville; 
You  'd  better  look  out  for  that  treacherous 

brute 

Bearing  you  off  to  Bumpville ! 
With  a  snort  she  rears  up  on  her  hindermost 

heels, 

And  executes  jigs  and  Virginia  reels — 
Words  fail  to  explain  how  embarrassed  one 

feels 
Dancing  so  wildly  to  Bumpville! 

It  's  bumpytybump  and  it  's  jiggytyjog, 

Journeying  on  to  Bumpville; 
It  's  over  the  hilltop  and  down  through  the 
bog 

You  ride  on  your  way  to  Bumpville; 
It  's  rattletybang  over  boulder  and  stump, 
There  are  rivers  to  ford,  there  are  fences  to 

jump, 
And  the  corduroy  road  it  goes  bumpytybump, 

Mile  after  mile  to  Bumpville ! 


66  THE  RIDE  TO   BUMPVILLE 

Perhaps  you  '11  observe  it  's  no  easy  thing 

Making  the  journey  to  Bumpville, 
So  I  think,  on  the  whole,  it  were  prudent  to 

bring 

An  end  to  this  ride  to  Bumpville ; 
For,  though  she  has  uttered  no  protest  or 

plaint, 

The  calico  mare  must  be  blowing  and  faint — 
What  's  more  to  the  point,  I  'm  bio  wed  if  I 

ain't ! 
So  play  we  have  got  to  Bumpville! 


THE   BROOK 

I  LOOKED  in  the  brook  and  saw  a  face  — 
Heigh-ho,  but  a  child  was  I! 
There  were  rushes  and  willows  in  that  place, 
And  they  clutched  at  the  brook  as  the 

brook  ran  by; 

And  the  brook  it  ran  its  own  sweet  way, 
As  a  child  doth  run  in  heedless  play, 
And  as  it  ran  I  heard  it  say: 
"  Hasten  with  me 

To  the  roistering  sea 

That  is  wroth  with  the  flame  of  the  morn- 
ing sky !  " 

I  look  in  the  brook  and  see  a  face  — 

Heigh-ho,  but  the  years  go  by ! 
The  rushes  are  dead  in  the  old-time  place, 

And  the  willows  I  knew  when  a  child  was  I. 

67 


68  THE   BROOK 

And  the  brook  it  seemeth  to  me  to  say, 
As  ever  it  stealeth  on  its  way  — 
Solemnly  now,  and  not  in  play  : 
"Oh,  come  with  me 

To  the  slumbrous  sea 

That  is  gray  with  the  peace  of  the  evening 
sky !  " 

Heigh-ho,  but  the  years  go  by  — 

/  would  to  God  that  a  child  were  If 


i 


PICNIC-TIME 

T  's  June  ag'in,  an'  in  my  soul  I  feel  the 

fillin'  joy 
That 's  sure  to  come  this  time  o'  year  to  every 

little  boy; 
For,  every  June,  the  Sunday-schools  at  picnics 

may  be  seen, 
Where  "fields  beyont  the  swellin'  floods  stand 

dressed  in  livin'  green  "  ; 
Where  little  girls  are  skeered  to  death  with 

spiders,  bugs,  and  ants, 
An'  little  boys  get  grass-stains  on  their  go-to- 

meetin'  pants. 

It  's  June  ag'in,  an'  with  it  all  what  happi- 
ness is  mine  — 
There  's  goin'  to  be  a  picnic,  an'  I  'm  goin' 

to  jine ! 

69 


70  PICNIC-TIME 

One  year  I  jined  the  Baptists,  an'  goodness ! 

how  it  rained! 
(But  grampa  says  that  that  's  the  way  "bap- 

tizo"  is  explained.) 
And  once  I  jined  the  Tiscopils  an'  had  a  heap 

o'  fun  — 
But  the  boss  of  all  the  picnics  was  the  Pres- 

byteriun ! 
They  had  so  many  puddin's,  sallids,  sandwidges, 

an'  pies, 

That  a  feller  wisht  his  stummick  was  as  hun- 
gry as  his  eyes! 
Oh,  yes,  the  eatin'  Presbyteriuns  give  yer  is  so 

fine 
That  when  they  have  a  picnic,  you  bet  /  '/» 

goin'  to  jine ! 


But  at  this  time  the  Methodists  have  special 

claims  on  me, 
For  they  're  goin'  to  give  a  picnic  on  the 

2ist,  D.  V.; 


PICNIC-TIME  71 

Why  should  a  liberal  universalist  like  me 
object 

To  share  the  joys  of  fellowship  with  every 
friendly  sect  ? 

However  het'rodox  their  articles  of  faith  else- 
wise  may  be, 

Their  doctrine  of  fried  chick'n  is  a  savin' 
grace  to  me! 

So  on  the  2ist  of  June,  the  weather  bein'  fine, 

They  're  goin'  to  give  a  picnic,  and  I  'm  goin' 
to  jine ! 


SHUFFLE-SHOON    AND 
AMBER-LOCKS 

SHUFFLE-SHOON  and  Amber-Locks 
Sit  together,  building  blocks; 
Shuffle- Shoon  is  old  and  gray, 
Amber-Locks  a  little  child, 
But  together  at  their  play 

Age  and  Youth  are  reconciled, 
And  with  sympathetic  glee 
Build  their  castles  fair  to  see. 

"  When  I  grow  to  be  a  man  " 
(So  the  wee  one's  prattle  ran), 
"  I  shall  build  a  castle  so  — 

With  a  gateway  broad  and  grand; 
Here  a  pretty  vine  shall  grow, 

There  a  soldier  guard  shall  stand; 
And  the  tower  shall  be  so  high, 
Folks  will  wonder,  by  and  by ! " 
72 


SHUFFLE-SHOON   AND   AMBER-LOCKS       73 

Shuffle-Shoon  quoth:  "Yes,  I  know; 
Thus  I  builded  long  ago! 

Here  a  gate  and  there  a  wall, 

Here  a  window,  there  a  door; 
Here  a  steeple  wondrous  tall 

Riseth  ever  more  and  more! 
But  the  years  have  leveled  low 
What  I  builded  long  ago !  " 

So  they  gossip  at  their  play, 
Heedless  of  the  fleeting  day; 

One  speaks  of  the  Long  Ago 

Where  his  dead  hopes  buried  lie; 
One  with  chubby  cheeks  aglow 

Prattleth  of  the  By  and  By  ; 
Side  by  side,  they  build  their  blocks — 
Shuffle-Shoon  and  Amber-Locks. 


THE   SHUT-EYE  TRAIN 

COME,  my  little  one,  with  me! 
There  are  wondrous  sights  to  see 
As  the  evening  shadows  fall; 
In  your  pretty  cap  and  gown, 
Don't  detain 
The  Shut- Eye  train  — 
"Ting-a-ling!"  the  bell  it  goeth, 
"Toot-toot!"  the  whistle  bloweth, 
And  we  hear  the  warning  call: 
«  All  aboard  for  Shut-Eye  Town!" 

Over  hill  and  over  plain 

Soon  will  speed  the  Shut- Eye  train! 

Through  the  blue  where  bloom  the  stars 
And  the  Mother  Moon  looks  down 
We  '11  away 
To  land  of  Fay  — 


THE    SHUT-EYE  TRAIN  75 

Oh,  the  sights  that  we  shall  see  there! 

Come,  my  little  one,  with  me  there  — 
'T  is  a  goodly  train  of  cars  — 
All  aboard  for  Shut-Eye  Town! 


Swifter  than  a  wild  bird's  flight, 
Through  the  realms  of  fleecy  light 

We  shall  speed  and  speed  away! 

Let  the  Night  in  envy  frown  — 
What  care  we 
How  wroth  she  be! 

To  the  Balow-land  above  us, 

To  the  Balow-folk  who  love  us, 
Let  us  hasten  while  we  may  — 
All  aboard  for  Shut-Eye  Town! 

Shut-Eye  Town  is  passing  fair  — 
Golden  dreams  await  us  there; 

We  shall  dream  those  dreams,  my  dear, 
Till  the  Mother  Moon  goes  down  — 
See  unfold 
Delights  untold! 


76  THE  SHUT-EYE   TRAIN 

And  in  those  mysterious  places 
We  shall  see  beloved  faces 
And  beloved  voices  hear 
In  the  grace  of  Shut-Eye  Town. 

Heavy  are  your  eyes,  my  sweet, 
Weary  are  your  little  feet  — 
Nestle  closer  up  to  me 
In  your  pretty  cap  and  gown; 
Don't  detain 
The  Shut-Eye  train! 
"  Ting-a-ling !  "  the  bell  it  goeth, 
"  Toot-toot !  "  the  whistle  bloweth 
Oh,  the  sights  that  we  shall  see! 
All  aboard  for  Shut-Eye  Town  ! 


LITTLE-OH-DEAR 

SEE,  what  a  wonderful  garden  is  here, 
Planted  and  trimmed  for  my  Little-Oh- 

Dear! 

Posies  so  gaudy  and  grass  of  such  brown — 
Search  ye  the  country  and  hunt  ye  the  town 
And  never  ye  '11  meet  with  a  garden  so  queer 
As  this  one  I  Ve  made  for  my  Little-Oh-Dear! 

Marigolds  white  and  buttercups  blue, 
Lilies  all  dabbled  with  honey  and  dew, 
The  cactus  that  trails  over  trellis  and  wall, 
Roses  and  pansies  and  violets  —  all 
Make  proper  obeisance  and  reverent  cheer 
When  into  her  garden  steps  Little-Oh-Dear. 

77 


78  LITTLE-OH-DEAR 

And  up  at  the  top  of  that  lavender-tree 
A  silver-bird  singeth  as  only  can  she; 
For,  ever  and  only,  she  singeth  the  song 
"  I  love  you  —  I  love  you !  '*'  the  happy  day 

long;— 
Then  the  echo  —  the  echo  that  smiteth  me 

here! 
"I  love  you,  I  love  you,"  my  Little-Oh-Dear! 

The  garden  may  wither,  the  silver-bird  fly — 
But  what  careth  my  little  precious,  or  I  ? 
From  her  pathway  of  flowers  that  in  spring- 
time upstart 

She  walketh  the  tenderer  way  in  my  heart 
And,  oh,  it  is  always  the  summer-time  here 
With  that  song  of  "  I  love  you,"  my  Little- 
Oh-Dear! 


THE   FLY-AWAY   HORSE 

OH,  a  wonderful  horse  is  the  Fly- Away 
Horse— 

Perhaps  you  have  seen  him  before; 
Perhaps,  while  you  slept,  his  shadow  has  swept 
Through  the  moonlight  that  floats  on  the 

floor. 
For  it  's  only  at  night,  when  the  stars  twinkle 

bright, 

That  the  Fly-Away  Horse,  with  a  neigh 
And  a  pull  at  his  rein  and  a  toss  of  his  mane, 
Is  up  on  his  heels  and  away! 
The  Moon  in  the  sky, 
As  he  gallopeth  by, 
Cries :  "  Oh !  what  a  marvelous  sight !  " 
And  the  Stars  in  dismay 
Hide  their  faces  away 
In  the  lap  of  old  Grandmother  Night. 

79 


So  THE  FLY-AWAY   HORSE 

It  is  yonder,  out  yonder,  the  Fly- A  way  Horse 

Speedeth  ever  and  ever  away  — 
Over  meadows  and  lanes,  over  mountains  and 

plains, 

Over  streamlets  that  sing  at  their  play; 
And  over  the  sea  like  a  ghost  sweepeth  he, 

While  the  ships  they  go  sailing  below, 
And  he  speedeth  so  fast  that  the  men  at  the 

mast 

Adjudge  him  some  portent  of  woe. 
"  What  ho  there !  "  they  cry, 

As  he  flourishes  by 
With  a  whisk  of  his  beautiful  tail; 
And  the  fish  in  the  sea 
Are  as  scared  as  can  be, 
From  the  nautilus  up  to  the  whale! 

And  the  Fly-Away  Horse  seeks  those  far- 
away lands 

You  little  folk  dream  of  at  night  — 
Where  candy-trees  grow,  and  honey-brooks 

flow, 
And  corn-fields  with  popcorn  are  white; 


THE   FLY-AWAY   HORSE  81 

And  the  beasts  in  the  wood  are  ever  so  good 

To  children  who  visit  them  there  — 
What  glory  astride  of  a  lion  to  ride, 
Or  to  wrestle  around  with  a  bear! 

The  monkeys,  they  say: 
"  Come  on,  let  us  play," 
And  they  frisk  in  the  cocoanut-trees  : 
While  the  parrots,  that  cling 
To  the  peanut- vines,  sing 
Or  converse  with  comparative  ease! 

Off!  scamper  to  bed  —  you  shall  ride  him  to 

night ! 

For,  as  soon  as  you  've  fallen  asleep, 
With  a  jubilant  neigh  he  shall  bear  you  away 

Over  forest  and  hillside  and  deep! 
But  tell  us,  my  dear,  all  you  see  and  you  hear 

In  those  beautiful  lands  over  there, 
Where  the  Fly-Away  Horse  wings  his  far- 
away course 

With  the  wee  one  consigned  to  his  care. 
Then  grandma  will  cry 
In  amazement :  "  Oh,  my !  " 


82  THE   FLY-AWAY   HORSE 

And  she  '11  think  it  could  never  be  so; 

And  only  we  two 

Shall  know  it  is  true  — 
You  and  I,  little  precious !  shall  know ! 


SWING    HIGH   AND   SWING   LOW 

SWING  high  and  swing  low 
While  the  breezes  they  blow  — 
It  's  off  for  a  sailor  thy  father  would  go ; 
And  it  's  here  in  the  harbor,  in  sight  of  the  sea, 
He  hath  left  his  wee  babe  with  my  song  and 
with  me: 

"  Swing  high  and  swing  low 
While  the  breezes  they  blow!" 

Swing  high  and  swing  low 
While  the  breezes  they  blow  — 
It  's  oh  for  the  waiting  as  weary  days  go! 
And  it  's  oh  for  the  heartache  that  smiteth 

me  when 

I  sing  my  song  over  and  over  again : 
"  Swing  high  and  swing  low 
While  the  breezes  they  blow ! " 
83 


84  SWING   HIGH   AND   SWING   LOW 

"Swing  high  and  swing  low"  — 

The  sea  singeth  so, 

And  it  waileth  anon  in  its  ebb  and  its  flow; 
And  a  sleeper  sleeps  on  to  that  song  of  the  sea 
Nor  recketh  he  ever  of  mine  or  of  me ! 
"  Swing  high  and  swing  low 
While  the  breezes  they  blow  — 
'Twas  off  for  a  sailor  thy  father  would 
go!" 


WHEN   I   WAS   A   BOY 

Up  in  the  attic  where  I  slept 
When  I  was  a  boy,  a  little  boy, 
In  through  the  lattice  the  moonlight  crept, 
Bringing  a  tide  of  dreams  that  swept 
Over  the  low,  red  trundle-bed, 
Bathing  the  tangled  curly  head, 
While  moonbeams  played  at  hide-and-seek 
With  the  dimples  on  the  sun-browned  cheek — 
When  I  was  a  boy,  a  little  boy ! 

And,  oh!  the  dreams — the  dreams  I  dreamed! 

When  I  was  a  boy,  a  little  boy! 
For  the  grace  that  through  the  lattice  streamed 
Over  my  folded  eyelids  seemed 
To  have  the  gift  of  prophecy, 
And  to  bring  me  glimpses  of  times  to  be 
85 


86  WHEN   I   WAS  A   BOY 

When  manhood's  clarion  seemed  to  call  — 
Ah!  that  was  the  sweetest  dream  of  all, 
When  I  was  a  boy,  a  little  boy! 

I  'd  like  to  sleep  where  I  used  to  sleep 

When  I  was  a  boy,  a  little  boy! 
For  in  at  the  lattice  the  moon  would  peep, 
Bringing  her  tide  of  dreams  to  sweep 
The  crosses  and  griefs  of  the  years  away 
From  the  heart  that  is  weary  and  faint  to-day; 
And  those  dreams  should  give  me  back  again 
A  peace  I  have  never  known  since  then  — 
When  I  was  a  boy,  a  little  boy! 


AT   PLAY 

FAY  that  you  are  mother  dear, 
And  play  that  papa  is  your  beau; 
Play  that  we  sit  in  the  corner  here, 

Just  as  we  used  to,  long  ago. 
Playing  so,  we  lovers  two 

Are  just  as  happy  as  we  can  be, 
And  I  '11  say  "I  love  you"  to  you, 

And  you  say  "  I  love  you  "  to  me ! 
"  I  love  you  "  we  both  shall  say, 
All  in  earnest  and  all  in  play. 

Or,  play  that  you  are  that  other  one 
That  some  time  came,  and  went  away ; 

And  play  that  the  light  of  years  agone 
Stole  into  my  heart  again  to-day ! 


88  AT   PLAY 

Playing  that  you  are  the  one  I  knew 
In  the  days  that  never  again  may  be, 

I  '11  say  "  I  love  you  "  to  you, 

And  you  say  "  I  love  you "  to  me ! 
"  I  love  you ! "  my  heart  shall  say 

To  the  ghost  of  the  past  come  back  to-day ! 

Or,  play  that  you  sought  this  nestling-place 
For  your  own  sweet  self,  with  that  dual 

guise 
Of  your  pretty  mother  in  your  face 

And  the  look  of  that  other  in  your  eyes! 
So  the  dear  old  loves  shall  live  anew 
'    As  I  hold  my  darling  on  my  knee, 
And  I  '11  say  "  I  love  you  "  to  you, 

And  you  say  "I  love  you"  to  me! 
Oh,  many  a  strange,  true  thing  we  say 
And  do  when  we  pretend  to  play ! 


A   VALENTINE 

Go,  Cupid,  and  my  sweetheart  tell 
I  love  her  well. 

Yes,  though  she  tramples  on  my  heart 
And  rends  that  bleeding  thing  apart; 
And  though  she  rolls  a  scornful  eye 
On  doting  me  when  I  go  by; 
And  though  she  scouts  at  everything 
As  tribute  unto  her  I  bring  — 
Apple,  banana,  caramel  — 
Haste,  Cupid,  to  my  love  and  tell, 
In  spite  of  all,  I  love  her  well ! 

And  further  say  I  have  a  sled 
Cushioned  in  blue  and  painted  red ! 
The  groceryman  has  promised  I 
Can  "hitch"  whenever  he  goes  by  — 


90  A   VALENTINE 

Go,  tell  her  that,  and,  furthermore, 
Apprise  my  sweetheart  that  a  score 
Of  other  little  girls  implore 
The  boon  of  riding  on  that  sled 
Painted  and  hitched,  as  aforesaid;  — 
And  tell  her,  Cupid,  only  she 
Shall  ride  upon  that  sled  with  me! 
Tell  her  this  all,  and  further  tell 
I  love  her  well. 


LITTLE   ALL-ALONEY 

ETTLE  ALL-ALONEY'S  feet 
Pitter-patter  in  the  hall, 
And  his  mother  runs  to  meet 
And  to  kiss  her  toddling  sweet, 

Ere  perchance  he  fall. 
He  is,  oh,  so  weak  and  small ! 
Yet  what  danger  shall  he  fear 
When  his  mother  hovereth  near, 
And  he  hears  her  cheering  call: 
"All-Aloney"? 

Little  All-Aloney's  face 
It  is  all  aglow  with  glee, 

As  around  that  romping-place 

At  a  terrifying  pace 
Lungeth,  plungeth  he! 
91 


92  LITTLE  ALL-ALONEY 

And  that  hero  seems  to  be 

All  unconscious  of  our  cheers  — 
Only  one  dear  voice  he  hears 

Calling  reassuringly: 

"All-Aloney!" 

Though  his  legs  bend  with  their  load, 
Though  his  feet  they  seem  so  small 

That  you  cannot  help  forebode 

Some  disastrous  episode 
In  that  noisy  hall, 

Neither  threatening  bump  nor  fall 
Little  All-Aloney  fears, 
But  with  sweet  bravado  steers 

Whither  comes  that  cheery  call : 
"  All-Aloney ! " 

Ah,  that  in  the  years  to  come, 

When  he  shares  of  Sorrow's  store, — 
When  his  feet  are  chill  and  numb, 
When  his  cross  is  burdensome, 
And  his  heart  is  sore: 


LITTLE  ALL-ALONEY  93 

Would  that  he  could  hear  once  more 
The  gentle  voice  he  used  to  hear — 
Divine  with  mother  love  and  cheer — 

Calling  from  yonder  spirit  shore : 
"  All,  all  alone !  " 


I 


SEEIN'   THINGS 

AIN'T  afeard  uv  snakes,  or  toads,  or  bugs, 

or  worms,  or  mice, 
An'  Brings  'at  girls  are  skeered  uv  I  think 

are  awful  nice ! 
I  'm  pretty  brave,  I  guess ;  an'  yet  I  hate  to 

go  to  bed, 
For,  when  I  'm  tucked  up  warm  an'  snug  an' 

when  my  prayers  are  said, 
Mother  tells  me  "  Happy  dreams !  "  and  takes 

away  the  light, 
An'  leaves  me  lyin'  all  alone  an'  seein'  things 

at  night ! 

Sometimes  they  're  in  the  corner,  sometimes 

they  're  by  the  door, 
Sometimes  they  're  all  a-standin'  in  the  middle 

uv  the  floor; 

Q4 


SEEIN'  THINGS  95 

Sometimes  they  are  a-sittin'  down,  sometimes 

they  're  walkin'  round 
So  softly  an'  so  creepylike  they  never  make  a 

sound ! 
Sometimes  they  are  as  black  as  ink,  an'  other 

times  they  're  white  — 
But  the  color  ain't  no  difference  when  you  see 

things  at  night! 


Once,  when  I  licked  a  feller  'at  had  just 

moved  on  our  street, 
An'  father  sent  me  up  to  bed  without  a  bite 

to  eat, 
I  woke  up  in  the  dark  an'  saw  things  standin' 

in  a  row, 
A-lookin'  at  me  cross-eyed  an'  p'intin'  at  me  — 

so! 
Oh,  my !  I  wuz  so  skeered  that  time  I  never 

slep'  a  mite — 
It  's  almost  alluz  when  I  'm  bad  I  see  things 

at  night! 


96  SEEIN'   THINGS 

Lucky  thing  I  ain't  a  girl,  or  I  'd  be  skeered 

to  death! 
Bein'  I  'm  a  boy,  I  duck  my  head  an'  hold 

my  breath  j 
An'  I  am,  oh!  so  sorry  I  'm  a  naughty  boy, 

an'  then 
I  promise  to  be  better  an'  I  say  my  prayers 

again ! 
Gran'ma  tells  me  that  's  the  only  way  to  make 

it  right 
When  a  feller  has  been  wicked  an'  sees  things 

at  night! 


An'  so,  when  other  naughty  boys  would  coax 

me  into  sin, 
I  try  to  skwush  the  Tempter's  voice  'at  urges 

me  within; 
An'  when  they  's  pie  for  supper,  or  cakes  'at  's 

big  an'  nice, 
I  want  to  —  but  I  do  not  pass  my  plate  f'r 

them  things  twice  ! 


SEEIN'   THINGS  97 

No,  ruther  let  Starvation  wipe  me  slowly  out 

o'  sight 
Than  I  should  keep  a-livin'  on  an'  seem'  things 

at  night! 


THE   CUNNIN'   LITTLE   THING 

WHEN  baby  wakes  of  mornings, 
Then  it  's  wake,  ye  people  all ! 
For  another  day 
Of  song  and  play 
Has  come  at  our  darling's  call! 
And,  till  she  gets  her  dinner, 
She  makes  the  welkin  ring, 
And  she  won't  keep  still  till  she  's  had  her 

fill  — 
The  cunnin'  little  thing ! 

When  baby  goes  a-walking, 
Oh,  how  her  paddies  fly ! 

For  that  's  the  way 

The  babies  say 
To  other  folk  "by-by"; 


THE  CUNNIN'   LITTLE  THING  99 

The  trees  bend  down  to  kiss  her, 
And  the  birds  in  rapture  sing, 

As  there  she  stands  and  waves  her  hands  — 
The  cunnin'  little  thing ! 

When  baby  goes  a-rocking 
In  her  bed  at  close  of  day, 
At  hide-and-seek 
On  her  dainty  cheek 
The  dreams  and  the  dimples  play; 
Then  it  's  sleep  in  the  tender  kisses 

The  guardian  angels  bring 
From  the  Far  Above  to  my  sweetest 

love — 
You  cunnin'  little  thing ! 


THE   DOLL'S   WOOING 

THE  little  French  doll  was  a  dear  little  doll 
Tricked  out  in  the  sweetest  of  dresses; 
Her  eyes  were  of  hue 
A  most  delicate  blue 
And  dark  as  the  night  were  her  tresses; 
Her  dear  little  mouth  was  fluted  and  red, 
And  this  little  French  doll  was  so  very  well 

bred 

That  whenever  accosted  her  little  mouth  said 
"  Mamma  !  mamma !  " 

The  stockinet  doll,  with  one  arm  and  one  leg, 
Had  once  been  a  handsome  young  fellow, 
But  now  he  appeared 
Rather  frowzy  and  bleared 
In  his  torn  regimentals  of  yellow; 


THE    DOLL'S   WOOING  101 

Yet  his  heart  gave  a  curious  thump  as  he  lay 
In  the  little  toy  cart  near  the  window  one  day 
And  heard  the  sweet  vo^ce  of  that  French  dolly 
say: 

"  Mamma !  mamma !  " 


He  listened  so  long  and  he  listened  so  hard 
That  anon  he  grew  ever  so  tender, 
For  it  's  everywhere  known 
That  the  feminine  tone 
Gets  away  with  all  masculine  gender! 
He  up  and  he  wooed  her  with  soldierly  zest 
But  all  she  'd  reply  to  the  love  he  professed 
Were  these  plaintive  words  (which  perhaps  you 
have  guessed) : 

"  Mamma !  mamma !  " 


Her  mother — a  sweet  little  lady  of  five- 
Vouchsafed  her  parental  protection, 
And  although  stockinet 
Was  n't  blue-blooded,  yet 
She  really  could  make  no  objection ! 


102  THE   DOLL'S  WOOING 

So  soldier  and  dolly  were  wedded  one  day, 
And  a  moment  ago,  as  I  journeyed  that  way, 
I  'm  sure  that  I  heard  a  wee  baby  voice  say: 
"  Mamma !  mamma  !  " 


INSCRIPTION    FOR   MY   LITTLE  SON'S 
SILVER    PLATE 

WHEN  thou  dost  eat  from  off  this  plate, 
I  charge  thee  be  thou  temperate; 
Unto  thine  elders  at  the  board 
Do  thou  sweet  reverence  accord ; 
And,  though  to  dignity  inclined, 
Unto  the  serving- folk  be  kind ; 
Be  ever  mindful  of  the  poor, 
Nor  turn  them  hungry  from  the  door; 
And  unto  God,  for  health  and  food 
And  all  that  in  thy  life  is  good, 
Give  thou  thy  heart  in  gratitude. 


103 


FISHERMAN   JIM'S   KIDS 

FISHERMAN  Jim  lived  on  the  hill 
With  his  bonnie  wife  an'  his  little  boys; 
'T  wuz  "  Blow,  ye  winds,  as  blow  ye  will  — 
Naught  we  reck  of  your  cold  and  noise !  " 
For  happy  and  warm  were  he  an'   his, 
And  he  dandled  his  kids  upon  his  knee 
To  the  song  of  the  sea. 

Fisherman  Jim  would  sail  all  day, 

But,  when  come  night,  upon  the  sands 
His  little  kids  ran  from  their  play, 
Callin'  to  him  an'  wavin'  their  hands; 
Though  the  wind  was  fresh  and  the  sea 

was  high, 

He  'd  hear  'em  —  you  bet  —  above  the  roar 
Of  the  waves  on  the  shore ! 


FISHERMAN  JIM'S   KIDS  105 

Once  Fisherman  Jim  sailed  into  the  bay 

As  the  sun  went  down  in  a  cloudy  sky, 
And  never  a  kid  saw  he  at  play, 

And  he  listened  in  vain  for  the  welcoming  cry. 

In  his  little  house  he  learned  it  all, 
And  he  clinched  his  hands  and  he  bowed 

his  head  — 
"The  fever!"  they  said. 

'T  wuz  a  pitiful  time  for  Fisherman  Jim, 

With  them  darlin's  a-dyin'  afore  his  eyes, 
A-stretchin'  their  wee  hands  out  to  him 
An'  a-breakin'  his  heart  with  the  old-time 

cries 

He  had  heerd  so  often  upon  the  sands ; 
For  they  thought  they  wuz  helpin'  his  boat 

ashore  — 
Till  they  spoke  no  more. 

But  Fisherman  Jim  lived  on  and  on, 
Castin'  his  nets  an'  sailin'  the  sea; 

As  a  man  will  live  when  his  heart  is  gone, 
Fisherman  Jim  lived  hopelessly, 


io6  FISHERMAN  JIM'S   KIDS 

Till  once  in  those  years  they  come  an' 

said : 

"  Old  Fisherman  Jim  is  powerful  sick  — 
Go  to  him,  quick !  " 

Then  Fisherman  Jim  says  he  to  me : 

"  It's  a  long, long  cruise — you  understand  — 

But  over  beyont  the  ragin'  sea 

I  kin  see  my  boys  on  the  shinin'  sand 
Waitin'  to  help  this  ol'  hulk  ashore, 
Just  as  they  used  to  —  ah,  mate,  you  know ! — 
In  the  long  ago." 

No,  sir!  he  wuz  n't  afeard  to  die; 

For  all  night  long  he  seemed  to  see 
His  little  boys  of  the  days  gone  by, 
An'  to  hear  sweet  voices  forgot  by  me ! 

An'  just  as  the  mornin'  sun  come  up  — 
"  They  're  holdin'  me  by  the  hands !  "  he  cried, 
An'  so  he  died. 


"FIDDLE-DEE-DEE" 

THERE  once  was  a  bird  that  lived  up  in 
a  tree, 

And  all  he  could  whistle  was  "  Fiddle-dee- 
dee  "— 

A  very  provoking,  unmusical  song 
For  one  to  be  whistling  the  summer  day 

long! 

Yet  always  contented  and  busy  was  he 
With  that  vocal  recurrence  of  "  Fiddle-dee- 
dee." 

Hard  by  lived  a  brave  little  soldier  of  four, 
That  weird  iteration  repented  him  sore; 
"  I  prithee,  Dear-Mother-Mine !  fetch  me  my 

gun, 

For,  by  our  St.  Didy!  the  deed  must  be  done 
107 


io8  "FIDDLE-DEE-DEE" 

That  shall  presently  rid  all  creation  and  me 
Of  that  ominous  bird  and  his  '  Fiddle-dee- 
dee  ' !  " 


Then  out  came  Dear-Mother-Mine,  bringing 

her  son 

His  awfully  truculent  little  red  gun; 
The  stock  was  of  pine  and  the  barrel  of  tin, 
The  "bang"  it  came  out  where  the  bullet 

went  in  — 

The  right  kind  of  weapon  I  think  you  '11  agree 
For  slaying  all  fowl  that  go  "  Fiddle-dee-dee  "  ! 


The  brave  little  soldier  quoth  never  a  word, 
But  he  up  and  he  drew  a  straight  bead  on 

that  bird ; 

And,  while  that  vain  creature  provokingly  sang, 
The  gun  it  went  off  with  a  terrible  bang! 
Then  loud  laughed  the  youth  — "  By  my 

Bottle,"  cried  he, 
"  I  've  put  a  quietus  on  '  Fiddle-dee-dee  ' !  " 


"FIDDLE-DEE-DEE"  109 

Out  came  then  Dear-Mother-Mine,  saying : 

"  My  son, 
Right  well  have  you  wrought  with  your  little 

red  gun! 

Hereafter  no  evil  at  all  need  I  fear, 
With  such  a  brave  soldier  as  You-My-Love 

here !  " 
She  kissed  the  dear  boy. 

[The  bird  in  the  tree 
Continued  to  whistle  his  "Fiddle-dee-dee"!] 


OVER   THE  HILLS   AND   FAR   AWAY 

OVER  the  hills  and  far  away, 
A  little  boy  steals  from  his  morning  play 
And  under  the  blossoming  apple-tree 
He  lies  and  he  dreams  of  the  things  to  be : 
Of  battles  fought  and  of  victories  won, 
Of  wrongs  o'erthrown  and  of  great  deeds 

done — 

Of  the  valor  that  he  shall  prove  some  day, 
Over  the  hills  and  far  away — 

Over  the  hills,  and  far  away ! 

Over  the  hills  and  far  away 
It  's,  oh,  for  the  toil  the  livelong  day ! 
But  it  mattereth  not  to  the  soul  aflame 
With  a  love  for  riches  and  power  and  fame! 


OVER   THE    HILLS   AND    FAR   AWAY       in 

On,  O  man !  while  the  sun  is  high — 
On  to  the  certain  joys  that  lie 
Yonder  where  blazeth  the  noon  of  day, 
Over  the  hills  and  far  away — 

Over  the  hills,  and  far  away  ! 

Over  the  hills  and  far  away, 

An  old  man  lingers  at  close  of  day; 

Now  that  his  journey  is  almost  done, 

His  battles  fought  and  his  victories  won—- 

The  old-time  honesty  and  truth, 

The  trustfulness  and  the  friends  of  youth, 

Home  and  mother — where  are  they? 

Over  the  hills  and  far  away — 

Over  the  years,  and  far  away ! 


